A Continuation
by C.C. Grant
Summary: Viola goes to Virginia with Wessex and keeps a diary.  And she's been having the oddest cravings.  We will meet Will again in this story.  Small chaps, but plenty of 'em coming.  Rated T for pregnancy, and because I'm paranoid.
1. Introduction

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Shakespeare In Love. I wish I did...but no. I only own my foolish mistakes and Ravenclaw socks.

Basic, Sorta Quickie Sum: Viola has been keeping a journal since she arrived in Virginia with Wessex. It's way better than it sounds. Trust me... By the way, Will/Viola.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading this. These entries will usually be fairly short. But, trust me. There'll be a lot of them quickly. But, let it be known that I will not update unless I get at least one review, or one teeny display of reader affection for the story. (By the way, again, don't hate me if it gets too out of character and over dramatic...)

* * *

Dear Journal,

This is my first entry. Nurse has given me you as a wedding present.

A month and a half ago, I was married, performed a play (illegally) opposite the man I love (indeed not Wessex!) broke his heart (and my own), spoke with the Queen of England, and Wessex and I began our journey to Virginia. I believe God will not forgive me (even though He is so merciful) for I had entered Heaven during my time with Will. I suppose His jurisdiction is that I should wander in Hell for the rest of my mortal years. I am nearly glad of it. Perhaps the flaming brimstone will distract me from my true torture. Oh dear, Wessex is coming. (I shall never refer to him as my husband.) He strongly opposes my writing. But, I shall write soon.

- Viola de Lesse

- Viola Shakespe

- Viola Wes

- Viola


	2. Peaches & Pickles

Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Shakespeare In Love. Boo me.

A/N: Well, since it was the first chapter that I just posted, and there wasn't much to it, I suppose I shouldn't expect anything. However, this one is longer. Enjoy! By the way, I'm really, really, rushing the plot line. So, as I have admitted my mistake that I am too lazy to fix, just don't comment on it. But, as always, share the love.

Dear Journal,

I am sorry it has been so long since I have put ink to paper, although I never do tell you what day or month it is. No one on this continent seems to care what time it is, only what season, as they are mostly seeking agricultural fortune. I can tell you that it has been about two months though. Oh! I've forgotten. The reason I have waited to write is because Wessex seems to think I have been writing letters to Will (I haven't, because I think it would hurt him, and myself.) I am sorry I dawdled on the subject of time, and then got off-topic.

I suppose I am both ecstatic and horrified. Wessex, today, showed a strange amount of observation and noted to me that I looked wider. Of course, I was a tad offended, especially because I feel so wretched already, but I wouldn't have included that remark in this entry if not for the fact that I pondered it.

I haven't been eating a very healthful amount. But, don't worry about that. Anyhow, I pondered and pondered. I haven't been feeling too well, either. I am often sick. I crave the _oddest_ things. The other day, I had a fearsome want for peaches and pickles, at the _same_ time. How horrible a combination! I would have retched if I'd indulged the want, I do believe.

At that moment, I remembered Nurse speaking of it. How certain, usually, _married_ women often were sick and had odd cravings. You can't imagine my shock, oh Journal.

I am still wondering if perhaps I ate something off, but the harder I push the idea of sickness, the weaker the claim becomes.

Of course, I know where children come from. But, could it be possible that I am…_pregnant_? That I am to have a child? I am so shocked. But it isn't as if I were still pure.

At once, I wondered if it were not Wessex's child. The chances that he had impregnated me are few, compared to those that a certain other has.

The idea that I _might_ have something of Will's other than memories is thrilling! However, I wonder what Wessex will think if the baby looks nothing like me and exactly as Will does. How wonderful, but potentially painful, it would be to have a child version of my William Shakespeare.

I am not certain what will happen if Wessex realizes it _may_ be Will's baby. If I even have a baby. Will he be cruel to him?

Oh! But if it were Wessex's child, I am not sure what I would do.

How soon will Wessex realize that I am pregnant? (Once again, _if_ I am. I cannot stress how embarrassing it would be if it turns out that I am not, after making such a fuss. Even though, in reality, I am only speaking to myself.) Oh dear.

I will not allow Wessex to place any kind of parental claim on the child, no matter the father. I shall die before living with another Wessex.

I think I hear him. Oh thank you, Journal, for allowing me to pour out my raw emotion.

- Viola

A/N: The review button loves you and longs for a hug.


	3. A Poet's Hand

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Shakespeare In Love.

A/N: So, thanks to the 12 people who checked this out. For those wonderful people, I will persist. If you are new, congratulations, and, it's better than it sounds so far...I've got a special twist to this story...coming soon. BTW, I just added a special treat for you, in this chapter. COMPLETELY...well, ALMOST completely changes the plot.

Dear Journal,

It has been quite some time again. I'm so sorry that I haven't been the most loyal writer. It is very easy to forget things in this strange world! The days seem shorter with such a wonderful gift growing in my womb. It is certain that there is something. I have been eating more and more to support him. Wessex is aware of my pregnancy. As far as _I_ am aware, he believes it to be his child.

As you are a journal, and nobody will read what I will write, except for myself, I shall torture myself, and yet relieve myself of something burning inside. I always do miss my Will. I miss him with all my heart. I miss the way his eyes told me of his love better yet than his beautiful words. I miss his arm around my shoulders. Oh! Drat Wessex for being such a...I'm not quite certain what to call him. I do wish ever so much that I could just speak to Will for a moment. I should be forever happy and content for just that.

Oh dear! I can't believe I _forgot _to mention this, especially with my ramblings on pregnancy and my dear Will!You'll be most shocked, I promise, Journal!

Something most joyous happened today! Of course, I'd never have dreamt it possible, but a letter came, addressed to myself. I was drearily expecting a letter from my mother and father, or perhaps Nurse, as the lettering looked rather familiar. I'm surprised the seal wasn't opened by Wessex, but I'm glad. I cannot bear my privacy being sullied.

I opened the letter, and unfolded it. Here, I shall put it into your pages.

_Dearest Viola, _

_It seems impossible to write with a poet's hand as of late, due to our horrid circumstance, save what I have to, so I shall only speak to you only in prose. If you are glad to see our separation, read no further, for this shall be a letter only for those who can withstand a lovestruck fool's ramblings. _

_I cannot stand being parted from you. It is almost a physical pain. _

_How are you? Oh, don't speak of your..._legal _partner. I _cannot _bear his name. Speak of your surrounding, and the lady companions you may have met. I heard that Virginia was a very beautiful place, if somewhat tropical, compared to England. _

_My dearest love, as previously stated, I cannot bear it any longer. I know it is impossible, and may result disastrously, but I must visit you. Do not tell me otherwise, because I've nothing to lose, except you, and I have. I have found a ship that can take me to you as soon as they can, but they were very vague as to when that would be. All that I can say for now is that I love you, and I'm coming. I do not know when, and, as this letter may take months to reach you, it will be very vague. You may have centuries to wait and compose a reply, or I may show up beneath your window tonight._

_How I love you. _

_Your justified fool,_

_- William Shakespeare_

How wonderful of William! How worrying if Wessex should find him, if he should...

Oh, I think my babe's kicking. I feel rather sick. I must go.

- Viola


	4. Any Time Now

Disclaimer: I don't own Shakespeare in Love. Too tired to come up with a witty way of saying it, not that I've really used up my creative disclaimers on this story.

A/N: So much for updating all the time. Sorry. Seriously, I have five chapters I forgot I wrote. Bloody brilliant!

Dear Journal,

It's been so long, hasn't it? The babe will be coming any time now. Any time now. I have been so horribly tempered lately. But it is hard to bear the burden of a child, and arrogant Wessex, and the actual physical exhaustion of not having Will with me. I swear, a few weeks with that man and it seems as though we have been together for years. Or seconds. I do feel as though I have picked up some kind of dramatic flair from him though. Before knowing him, I was much the plainer.

Oh, my baby is kicking. Dear child.

Oh. Lord, what was that? Oh, that is _odd_. I think I am


	5. Eyes & Hair

Disclaimer: It's _completely_ likely that I could own the movie. Totally. (Sarcasm. It helps me.)

A/N: I've given up entirely on reader response. I'm just going to post when I can, for my own sake. I love you guys, though!

Dear Journal,

I have a baby boy. A baby boy. There is no doubt whatsoever about the baby's father. Oh, I wish Will could see him. He's so much like a miniature of him.

Because Will and Wessex share brown eyes and hair (although Will looks _so_ much the handsomer) Wessex hasn't deduced that the baby could possibly _not_ be his. But, even if the baby had flaming red hair and purple eyes, Wessex would still think the baby was his. No, I am only teasing, but Wessex apparently isn't too observant to realize that the baby is not his.

I am not yet sure what I should call the baby. Wessex has no ideas whatsoever, nor the mental perseverance to search a name out. So he has left the responsibility to me. I am glad of it.

- Viola


	6. Gift of God

Disclaimer: Don't own SIL. Nope. Wish I did. Nope. Yup.

A/N: Seriously, I have, like, six chapter/entry thingies…so, I'll just try to keep it coming.

Dear Journal,

I am so incomparably sorry I haven't written. A year. A whole year has passed. How long has it been since I arrived in America? Almost 2 years? Oh, Lord in Heaven above!

One moment; let me reread what I had written you last.

I was naming the baby. I had decided on Nathaniel. It means 'gift of God.' And, truly, I have named him well. He is wonderful. I am not sure how I should have survived without him.

Dear Nathaniel truly looks more and more like Will every day.

Wessex finally noticed the resemblance.

I am quite scared for my child at times. Wessex strongly had hoped that every trace of Shakespeare had been wiped from me.

- Viola


	7. Worries To Be Had

Disclaimer: I don't own SIL. Dang it.

A/N: If any of you still remember this story and are now expecting a reason for my absence when I so specifically said that my chapters would keep coming regularly…well, my computer completely died. Twice. And with it, six beautiful, long chapters. Then life intervened. Anyway, I felt guilty when you guys who still care started blowing up my email with notifications. So, I'm going to try to finish this. I have very, _very_ vague notions of where I was going. Please excuse my dramatic liberties with history. Sorry it's kinda short. So, with much ado about nothing—hehe—enjoy!

Dear Journal,

Nathaniel is so incredibly intelligent; I daresay he may follow in his father's profession. His vocabulary is rapidly increasing.

Everyday I take some time to unfold the creased paper that bears my poet's mark. Its promises fill me with hope and despair with equal measure. I have long since composed a reply that most clearly illustrates my eagerness for our reunion. I no longer care for the ties of honor that bond me to my marriage. My heart demands to be reunited with Will, to see the adoration in his eyes as he looks at his beautiful son.

Wessex and Nathaniel are not fond of each other, to say the least. I fear for the day that Wessex no longer sees a vulnerable toddler and instead sees a strong, outspoken opponent. My consolation lies in the knowledge that that day will not come so soon. There are many other worries to be had.

Whispers of a plague haunt Virginia.

The very thought of the word terrifies me. What should happen if Wessex died? While I am certain I would feel no remorse for his fate, what situation would Nathaniel and I fall into? What if, God forbid, Nathaniel were to—I cannot think about that.

Oh, Wessex is coming.

He has gone. He brought me a letter written in a hand that I knew at once.

- Viola


End file.
